Sam stood and started around the desk. “Liam doesn’t work alone. Either I’m here, or he works with another bartender. He’ll be your second on our busiest nights, and you’ll be glad to have him. Come on, and I’ll introduce you to the staff who are here.”
Steve Dworkin, six feet and slender, with sandy hair and beard, was the cook. He smiled and welcomed me, then turned back to the grill to turn a steak.
Donny, last name not spoken, was the dishwasher and kitchen help. “If someone orders food from the bar,” Sam said, “Donny will bring it out for you.”
Jenny Rafferty and Emily Watson were the waitresses on duty that night. With the bar open twenty-four hours, seven days a week, I was told the total staff numbered almost thirty, some part time.
When I expressed my surprise at never closing, Jenny said, “If we were closed, where would our customers go? Where would ye have gone? This is more than a business, it’s a safe place.”
Chapter 4
Liam was easier to work with than I feared he would be. If I did exactly what Sam had told me, being careful about how I phrased things, Liam answered every question I asked. By the time he abruptly informed me that his hour was up, took off his apron, fished his share of tips out of the jar, and walked out without saying a word of goodbye, I had a pretty good handle on where things were and how the place worked.
The one unusual thing was the small refrigerator under the bar with small bottles of neatly labeled potions, inhalants, and extracts. They all seemed to have a beneficial purpose, though I could see that a few had a recreational purpose as well. Thankfully, there weren’t any poisons.
Five customers sat at the bar, four of them either eating dinner or munching on an appetizer, and two-thirds of the tables were occupied. Jenny and Emily—a pretty strawberry blonde about thirty years old—were handling the dinner rush without even seeming to hurry. I had seen Emily carry two enormous trays of food out of the kitchen, leave one of them floating in the air while she served a table from the other tray, then recover the floating tray to serve a different table. Obviously, Sam knew his clientele. No one batted an eye at Emily’s trick.
Sam came out of his office around seven o’clock.
“Go take your break and get something to eat before I leave,” he said. “Just tell Dworkin what you want. You can sit at the end of the bar.”
I ordered the Guinness stew I missed out on the night before and looked over the specials sheet while I ate. Jenny came over and leaned against the bar, surveying the room.
“Things going okay?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said. “You folks have made it rather easy. Is Steve married?”
Jenny erupted with laughter. “Ah, wouldn’t it be nice to have someone at home who cooks like that? As a matter of fact, he is in a triad with a woman and another man, but ye never know, they might be open to new blood.”
I felt my face warm, and Jenny laughed harder.
“Dworkin is probably the best,” Jenny said, “but all of the cooks here are better than average. Ye’ll never get a bad meal at Rosie’s.”
It got busier as the night wore on. Fewer people ordering food and more ordering drinks. I kept busy, but never felt overwhelmed.
At a little after ten, the pink-haired emo lady I had seen reading tarot cards the night before came up to the bar and stuck out her hand.
“I’m Lizzy,” she said. “Some people call me Dizzy Lizzy cuz I’m kinda ditzy sometimes.”
I smiled and shook her hand. “I’m Erin.”
“You’re new in town?”
“Yes. Brand new.”
She nodded. “I thought so. I was born here, and I never saw you before. If there’s anything you want to know, just ask. You know, about the city,” she turned and cast a glance around the bar, “or the people, or if you want a reading.”
“Thanks. I will.”
She seemed to study me, but about the time I started to grow uncomfortable, she said, “Sloe gin fizz, please.”
I mixed her drink and collected her money, then watched her wander off toward a table where a man wearing a long black cape and a top hat was sitting alone. She sat down with him and pulled out her cards. He reached into his hat and also pulled out a pack of cards. They both began laying cards on the table, seemingly ignoring each other.
Before I could try to figure out what they were doing, the outside door opened, and two young men and a woman walked in. The storm obviously hadn’t abated because they wore rain ponchos dripping water. They took them off and hung them on pegs by the door, then one of the guys and the woman walked toward the bar. The second guy made a motion with his hand, spoke a couple of words, and the water they had dripped on the floor disappeared. He looked up and saw me behind the bar, smiled, and followed his friends.
“What will you have?” I asked. All three looked to be in their middle to late twenties.
The first guy stared at my chest and licked his lips. He was tall, over six feet, with red hair cropped short, hazel eyes, and a muscular physique. In all, rather pleasant to look at. When he didn’t answer, I turned to the woman.
“Can I get you a drink?”
“Guinness and a shot,” the woman said. She was shorter than me and almost skinny, with long, full red hair, a narrow face, and a million freckles.
“A shot of what?”
She looked a little surprised. “Jameson’s, of course.”
I gave a sigh. Sam’s lineup of Irish whiskeys was impressive, and only one person all night had ordered anything other than the cheapest.
“I’ll have a rusty nail,” the first guy said.
“I’ll have a black and tan,” the second guy ordered. He winked at me. Shorter than his friend, with medium-length brown hair, he was good-looking enough to model.
I moved down the bar and began pouring his drink.
“Nice ass,” I heard the redheaded guy say. I knew he said it loud enough for me to hear on purpose. A part of me wanted to take him by the throat, and another part of me cringed at my reaction. I wasn’t a Hunter anymore, and I needed to learn other ways of dealing with people. I was sure that Rosie’s Rule about not killing paying customers applied to the bartender as well as the customers.
I slid the shot and mixed drink across the bar while I waited for the Guinness to settle, then finished the beers.
“Five, ten, and five,” I told them, facing each in turn.
As they shelled out their money, the first guy said, “You’re new.”
“Yup. Born last night.” I looked at the five he handed me, then looked up at his face. He smirked. I smirked back. If the guy wanted to be an asshole, that was his right, but I didn’t have to serve him with a smile. I put their money in the register and the tips from the other two in the jar, then walked away to where another customer stood waiting.
A few minutes later, I looked up and saw just the shorter guy standing there. The redheads had found a table across the room. I walked back over to see if he needed anything.
“I’m Trevor,” he said, pushing a dollar bill across the bar. “Josh can be kind of an ass sometimes.”
“Erin. And the rest of the time he’s the sweet, generous guy I met tonight?” I didn’t take the dollar. Trevor glanced down at it, then back up at me. I shook my head. “A word of advice. Guys like that never have your back when the rubber hits the road. All they think about is themselves.”
“You’re kind of young to be that cynical. Josh really is a good guy.”
“You’re kind of old to be that naïve,” I said, and walked away.
Around midnight, I felt a strange wash of magic from the front door. A man in a long raincoat came in, shook himself, and hung the coat on a peg where it dripped water onto the floor. He walked over to the bar, his shoes squishing. He wore a dark business suit, a white shirt, and a tie. His skin was a Mediterranean olive shade, and his dark hair was very short on the sides, with sort of a flattop. If Sam was the innkeeper from Central Casting, I decided this guy must be the cop that Sam had mentioned.
“Good evening,” he said.
“Good evening. What can I do for you?”
“Hot coffee.”
I went and poured a cup. The pot was about five hours old, as I was the only one drinking it, but I didn’t see any need to make a cop feel any more welcome than I had to.
“You’re new,” he said when I pushed the cup across the bar. I took the two dollars and rang it up, then gave him fifty cents in change.
“I get that a lot,” I said. “There are some very observant people who come in here.” I had heard that about fifty times that night, and it was starting to get on my nerves.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that Jenny was leaning against the far end of the bar watching us.
“I was wondering, you didn’t happen to come into town last night, did you?”
I was trained too well to react, but inside, I readied myself for action. Someone would have found the vampire and probably reported him to the police.
“I don’t remember,” I said. “It’s such a welcoming place that I feel like I’ve been here all my life.”
His face tightened.
“It was just a question,” he said.
“And I don’t answer personal questions from people I don’t know, especially from policemen who don’t identify themselves.”
He straightened, reaching inside his jacket and pulling out his ID. “Detective Lieutenant Jordan Blair. And you are?”
“Erin.”
He waited, but when I didn’t volunteer my last name, he finally gave up. “Did you come into town last night, Erin?”
“Yes, I did.” I almost chuckled, realizing that Liam had the perfect tactic for dealing with cops and lawyers.”
“The reason I’m asking is a man’s body was found a few blocks from here this morning. Between here and the bus station. You didn’t happen to see anything unusual last night, did you?”